A Conflict of Interests
by Jaslazul
Summary: In the aftermath of Krystal's removal, Fox seeks her out. When and if he finds her again, what will the result be? Fox/Krystalish, a continuation of the oneshot "Necessity."
1. Necessity

Fox hesitated, his hand suspended inches from the door. Frowning, he forced himself to rap a few times on the thing.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps, then the whirring as the mechanical door slid open in front of him, revealing her—Krystal.

She looked so innocent, so fragile. He followed her eyes and noticed that his hand was still hovering in front of where the door had been. He brought it back to him, his face burning.

She spoke before he could muster the strength. "Fox? Do you need something?"

"Yeah, I—yeah. Umm..." He paused and scratched at his ears, forcing a smile.

"Why don't you come in?" Looking a little amused, Krystal looked directly at him, her cyan eyes boring through his being.

He wanted to say "no," but, instead, he heard himself say, "Sure."

"Alright." She turned and walked into the room. Fox followed moments afterward. He knew he was just making this more difficult on himself—prolonging the inevitable.

She sat down on her bed, dangling her feet on the edge and looking up at him. He stumbled a bit on his way over, then sat down beside her, trying not to get too close.

"So, what is it?" Krystal hadn't taken her eyes off of him.

He couldn't answer immediately. She was so beautiful, so pure, so innocent. When he looked at her, he saw everything that he ever wanted.

And that was what hurt him the most.

_The Arwing groaned, the force of the roll barely able to deflect all of the enemy fire. Fox took a glance at his shield monitor, and his heart sank._

_If he didn't get out of there soon, he was going to die._

_The comm buzzed to life. He glanced down at it, thinking that it would be Slippy again, but when he saw it..._

_He froze, blinking a few times to be sure that he was seeing correctly._

_It was Krystal. And her shield monitor..._

"_Fox, I could use a hand here! They're everywhere!"_

_He took a glance down at his radar, then at his own shields._

_There was no way._

_His heart started hammering. He couldn't do it. She was too far away, and if he went to save her, they would get him too._

_A tremor shook the Arwing. His eyes snapped down to the shield gauge. "Damn." He punched the control panel. _

_He had been careless, not paying attention. Another mess-up like that would cost him his life—no, not just his life, the lives of everyone. He could handle the ships on his tail now if he put forth all his effort, but... Krystal._

_His heart was racing. He couldn't leave her to die, but if he went for her, he would probably die himself. _

"_Fox!"_

_The vulpine threw his ship into a series of rolls before glancing down at the communicator again. Her shields had dropped._

_A bright red warning flashed on the monitor. He looked in the mirror and saw a laser flying directly at him._

_He jammed the ship's boost and swerved to the right, the force of the motion sending it spiraling out of control. When it recovered, Fox made the decision._

_There was nothing he could do. It was too late._

_Gritting his teeth, he switched the link off. _

"Fox, are you alright?" She was still looking at him, her face calm and serene.

And then it was frantic. She was screaming, yelling, and there was nothing he could do to help her. His carelessness had reduced her perfection into chaos and fear.

It was all his fault.

He shook his head, and her face returned to calm. Nothing but a hallucination, he told himself. But he had seen it before, and it had been real then.

She leaned in closer to him and said, "You're scaring me. Tell me what's wrong." She placed a hand on his knee, and he drew away.

"Krystal, there's something that you need to know."

"Go on."

He hesitated again, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His thought turned back to that day.

Krystal deserved better than that. She deserved more. She didn't deserve all the pains and struggles he had to go through.

That was why he had to do it.

The words came to him, and he belted them out before he had a chance to rethink it.

"I don't think you should be a part of Star Fox anymore."

Krystal blinked. "You're... this is a joke, right?"

"No."

"Are you serious? Wh—" She stopped and rested her chin in one of her hands, staring at him for a moment as if she was digesting the information. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's just..." He looked away. "I can't let you take those kinds of risks."

"'Take those kinds of risks?'" She was frowning, her body tense, hands on her hips. "Do you think I can't take care of myself?"

"No, it's not that, it's just that..."

"What is it, then?" Her voice rose. "Is it because I'm a woman? Is it because—"

"If Falco hadn't been there, you would've died!"

The words seemed to shatter the air. He hadn't meant to be so blunt. Krystal stared at him for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth a few times. "If Wolf hadn't been there, you would've died. Does that mean I can kick you off the team?"

He clutched his hands against his kneecaps, squeezing until his fingers were numb. "That's different. I knew what the risks were, and I had to—"

"I knew the risks, too, Fox, and I went anyway. Because I wanted to."

"But that's different. There wasn't any reason for you to go out there and almost kill yourself, we could've handled it fine on our own."

Fox knew he'd made a big mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. Krystal didn't flinch, retaining her calm demeanor. She sat for a few more minutes before getting up and pacing across the room, her back turned to Fox.

"I had thought that, after all this... after being _inducted_... that I would be treated like any of the rest of you."

"I'm not saying that—"

She held up a hand, and he knew in that moment that if he said anything else, he'd just be making his situation worse.

"Maybe if you can't treat me like a normal member of your team then I'm better off on my own." She turned around, biting her lip.

Fox sat there in cold silence, feeling as if she was scrutinizing every tremor movement of his body and could read into his emotions by doing so. After what felt like several long minutes, she finally sighed and looked away.

"Fox, I'm sorry. I appreciate your concern, and I probably would've been disappointed if you didn't do something like this." She paused. "But maybe you're right."

He looked straight at her, not sure whether to be thankful for the acknowledgement or regretful of its implications. "Huh?"

"Maybe it would be for the best if we didn't work together."

"You... you think? Is it because..." He trailed off, not sure what he was going to say in the first place.

Krystal gave a knowing smile. "I like you, Fox, but it's been tense around here ever since I joined. I could sense it. Maybe me joining this team wasn't such a great idea in the first place. Our feelings, they..." Fox felt his fur bristle at the word 'feelings.' "They interfere with the work. Cause things like this to happen."

She paused.

"Maybe it'd be for the best if I left."

If she had screamed the words at the top of her lungs, they could not have had a greater effect. Fox sat there, unmoving.

She had said it. She wasn't even angry anymore. It was what he wanted all along... wasn't it?

No, not what he had wanted. It was what was necessary. It had to be done.

"Yeah," he said, swallowing. "For the best."

Moments later, there was the whirring of the door again, and Krystal walked out, leaving him alone in the darkness. Somewhere in him, that tiny inner voice screamed "betrayer!"

* * *

Rapid knocks woke Fox from his slumber. Thinking that he must have missed the alarm, he dragged himself out of the bed, stealing a glance over at his clock:

_7:36 AM_

That was weird. He was expecting at least nine. They had no mission today... so why get up early?

There was another loud boom. "Fox, you have to see this!" It was Falco.

Stifling a yawn, Fox said, "I'm coming, I'm coming..." He walked towards the door and looked through the peephole out of habit, then opened it.

"Wha—"

Falco snatched his hand and started dragging him toward the elevator. Fox gave in and followed the bird, stopping to ask the question only when they reached the elevator. "What's up? And what are you doing up before lunchtime?"

"You'll see," Falco said, not looking toward Fox. There was a _ding_, then the elevator opened. Fox stepped in and watched as Falco pressed the button marked "recreation." He looked over at Falco a couple of times during the ride, but the bird said nothing. In fact, he didn't even look in Fox's direction. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding contact.

A creeping sense of tension enveloped him. Maybe something had gone wrong? Issues with the ship? Problems back in Corneria? Personal problems on Falco's part?

The elevator _ding_ed again and the doors opened. Fox followed Falco to the game room, where all the rest of the team was waiting, their eyes trained on him.

"What's going on?"

Peppy was lounging in the burgundy armchair, one of the three-piece set they had bought to go around the TV. He had the remote in his hand. "Fox... I know you're not gonna like this, but you gotta see it."

He really wished they would stop with all the suspense and just show him already. "What?"

Peppy motioned to the TV, which had a frozen image of a Furonics grooming kit on it. He pressed a button, and the familiar trumpet-heavy jingle of the Cornerian Seven-O'-Clock news filled the air.

The deer on screen began speaking. "Welcome back, this is Paul McDougal. Earlier in the week, the Corneria Military received a call about some disturbances in the asteroid field." A miniature picture of the asteroid belt appeared in the corner of the screen. "So, they dispatched a small squad to take care of it. No, it's not Star Fox, but another team that seems to have turned its game around in the recent weeks."

A picture flashed on the screen, showing the ships of all the Star Wolf team. There was one more than there should have been, Fox realized. And... and...

Nausea swept through him. The reporter was saying something, but the words didn't register.

The world seemed to close on him.

It was Krystal.

* * *


	2. A wish deferred

Thanks to AreUExperienced for suggesting that I continue this, and also to the rest of those who reviewed the first part and offered suggestions.

Also note that I have no idea where this is going, but isn't that the point of NaNoWriMo?

* * *

The icy sheen of the communicator's screen glared back at Fox, flashing and morphing as he navigated the menus, looking for nothing. He kept hoping the screen would light up with that white-backed picture from two months ago, that her visage would materialize in front of him, but the only image that came was the white numbers on the top of the screen climbing upward, reminding him that there was still a world out there, that time went on in Lylat even when it no longer existed for Fox.

There came a knock from the door. At first, he ignored it, but when it started again, he said barely loud enough for him to hear himself, "Come in."

Falco's blue head peeked in from a crack in the door. Of course it was Falco. Fox lay back in his bed, pulling the pillow over his eyes. "What do you want?"

There was a long silence. Then, a cough, and Falco's low voice said, "It's been three days. Don't you think it's time to take back over?"

He slowly let the pillow fall down until his eyes were exposed again, and he stared directly at the bird. "I think it's time for a break."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

Fox looked down at his communicator again.

"Look, I understand what you're going through." Fox felt the warmth of Falco's hand on his shoulder, and he looked up. "You can get over it or try to fix it, but there's not much else you can do. Sitting around like this, for sure, won't help."

Falco seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, but Fox didn't know what he was supposed to do, because the bird hadn't told him anything he hadn't already known. He knew that he should resume normal duties—he'd told himself that a thousand times, but that didn't make doing it any easier. Instead, his thoughts turned elsewhere. "Where are we right now?" he said slowly.

Falco sighed. "Between Corneria and Fichina. Hey, I know that look. What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," Fox said. "I..." He trailed off, then became aware of Falco's impatient stare. An idea came to him. "Well, I was just thinking that I could really use some time to myself."

The bird blinked. "Don't go getting any crazy ideas..."

"I'm not that miserable," he said. "I just want to take a little flight, is all, to calm myself down. I haven't been in the Arwing since it happened."

"Well, if you want to take a joy ride, do it. Who's gonna stop you? Peppy? He'd give you anything if you asked him." Falco paused for a few seconds, looking off at nothing in particular, a pensive look on his beak. "Just go. I'll cover for ya if there are any problems."

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Fox smiled. "I appreciate it. Thanks." He got off the bed and stood up, sending an expectant look to Falco.

"We'll just idle here I guess," Falco said. "Take as long as you need; we've got no missions and nowhere to be. Maybe I'll take a flight myself. I guess I could use a little time off."

Fox didn't say anything, letting his eyes fall down to the communicator again. He brought up the contacts list and looked at her picture one last time, then walked out of the room, leaving Falco standing behind him.

* * *

The familiarity of the Arwing was just what Fox McCloud needed after mingling in the alien world of relationships. Still, when he sat down in the cockpit to prepare for takeoff, the familiarity and relaxation he was expecting never came; it was as if he were in somebody else's ship. Nothing felt the same, not even the cool synthetic leather seats and the bumpy control stick that piloted the ship. Unable to shake the feeling, he took off in spite of it.

He knew where he was going. He hadn't planned on it, but he couldn't stop himself. Once he got into the ship and started flying, there was only one place that he knew of to go. Deep inside him, a nagging feeling ate away at him, warning him that he shouldn't be going there_—_and he knew he shouldn't—but he couldn't stop himself from doing so.

Soon enough, the rocky mass of Meteo came into view. Ordinarily, he might be a little edgy because of the difficult piloting he knew would be ahead of him, but he flew onward without the slightest hesitation or hurry. He didn't prolong the flight and revel its congeniality, nor did he rush because he dreaded the flight or because he was expectant of what came in the future. No such things existed; for him, there was only lassitude and languor with no observable end. The flight, as ridiculous as it was, was just something to do in the midst of it all.

When the eerie silhouette of Sargasso came into view, he gripped the controls with newfound intensity. Now that he was here, he was starting to see the stupidity in coming. What reasoning was there? What could he hope to gain? He knew the answer was nothing, but he continued approaching the station nonetheless, reasoning that it was too late to go back now. Any minute now...

He heard a familiar beeping sound: the chiming of the comm link. A little red light had lit up next to the communications control panel. Fox reached over and switched the link on.

The gray face of Wolf O'Donnell appeared on-screen—exactly who Fox had been expecting, although he wasn't exactly sure what to expect from this point on. _Stupid_, he cursed himself.

On-screen, Wolf's one eye blinked at him, then opened wide in disbelief. He looked almost as surprised at Fox as Fox was at himself. "Huh?" he said. "Fox? What do _you_ want?"

"Just here to visit," he murmured.

Wolf threw his head back and laughed. It took a while for those words to set in and for the other to realize that Fox hadn't been joking, and what Fox saw reflected in Wolf's visage and ears was something he would never have expected: fear. "Huh, are you insane? What for?"

"Just because I can. Is that a crime?"

Wolf's ears swiveled forward, and he squinted at the screen. "LOICing you in self-defense isn't a crime either. Should I do it?"

"That's irrelevant. I'm not on a planet and you don't have an ion cannon. Plus, I haven't shown any aggression, so yes, it would be a crime."

"That wasn't meant to be taken literally."

"I know. You were trying to intimidate me, and it didn't work. So are you going to let me in or not?"

Wolf said nothing, but he pursed his lips and growled. A few moments later, the communication link switched off and the doors of Sargasso's bay opened. The Arwing glided in with an ease and steadiness that normally came with familiarity. When he stepped out and into the loud, open bay of Sargasso, nobody had taken special notice of his entrance, at least until Wolf approached, frowning and crossing his arms.

"Well?"

At this point, Fox wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He hadn't gone over any of this in his head, and he figured that the most direct path would also be the easiest. "I hear you have a new team member," Fox said.

Wolf raised an eyebrow, amused. "Yeah. I heard you kicked her off Star Fox."

The words were worse than any physical blow, cutting through the air like daggers. He couldn't respond to this. Just stared at the black floor of the runway, biting his lip.

An eternity later, Wolf coughed, though it sounded fake. "She's not here now. Neither is Panther."

Fox looked up at him, mentally cursing his luck, but somehow feeling a little thankful. "When will they be back?"

"This evening. They're out on a recon mission on Venom." Fox wasn't sure how he had reacted to this, but it made Wolf point to himself. "Somebody has to stay behind and make sure nobody screws everything up."

Fox again cursed his luck. Then, he remembered the way Wolf had mentioned Panther, and that made him ask, "Are they close? Krystal and Panther."

Wolf snorted. "Are you kidding? She hates him."

Fox felt a jolt of smug self-satisfaction at that. But then his eyes fell down to the runway floor again, and he realized how stupid he felt, and even more, how stupid he must appear to be. Just fly into your arch-rival's base for a visit, ask how the team's doing, then what? Just wish them good day and go on your way?

"Why don't you stay for a bit?"

It took him by surprise—so much that he flinched and his head snapped up to look at Wolf, who recoiled.

"Sheesh, I'm not asking you to spend the freakin night. When someone pops in, aren't you supposed to invite 'em in?"

"Yeah, but..."

"You flew in here like we're best buddies and you won't say more than two words unless you're asking about Krystal. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to figure it out."

Fox couldn't force himself to make eye contact. For a few minutes, there were only the sounds of the Sargasso employees and the machinery running in the background. Ordinarily, he might be curious as to what was going on in the place, but he couldn't bring himself to look for anything beyond the face value. His eyes found the floor again, and he waited for Wolf to continue.

"I'm not an idiot, pup. I know what's going on, and I don't like this. What'll people think if I tell them _that_"—he pointed at Fox—"is my rival?"

Fox could tell that Wolf was trying to put on an act of selfishness, and he wasn't doing a very good job at it. Still, he was unable to think of anything with which to respond.

When Wolf spoke his voice was softer, and Fox had to strain to hear him over the noise. "Why don't you call her?"

Fox frowned, shivering and hugging himself, noticing the cold for the first time. "She's on a mission. I don't want to disturb her. It'd be the worst time to..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't even know what he wanted to do. He just wanted to see her in person again.

"Stay here, then. Wait for her."

Fox reached up to scratch his ears. "Why are you so eager to help?"

"It's no skin off my bones. You're so wimpy that you couldn't hurt me out your ship even if you tried." The older canine's eye darted across Fox's body. "And in your condition, I don't think I'll have to worry about that."

"What if I find something illegal and report it to the police?"

"Would you really do that?"

Fox regarded him strangely for a few seconds. "No, I wouldn't." Now that he thought about it, Fox wasn't sure why he had been arguing in the first place. Star Wolf was being of such great aid to the government that they would probably let them get away with just about anything. Besides, Wolf was right; he wouldn't report anything. They fought with ships, not with politics... and maybe that was the reason behind the other's hospitality.

"Sure," he said bitterly. "I'll stay."

Wolf motioned for him to follow. "Then let's at least get out of this huge place."

Fox followed the other. Wolf led him up several steep inclines until they were at the top of the room. He had a brief flashback to that day not too long ago when he was storming the place. Contrasting that with his current leisurely pace, he felt silly.

Hell, this entire thing was silly. What had possessed him to come here? Search as he might, he couldn't find any answers.

Soon enough, they were out of the main room and into a narrow corridor which bent frequently at right angles. There were doors at regular intervals, but they had passed at least ten of them before Wolf stopped at one. He pressed a combination into the keypad so quickly that Fox couldn't be sure of a single digit. The door slid open with a soft _whir _and _click_ed shut.

Fox peered inside, but couldn't see anything in the dark. Several different scents assaulted his nostrils, and he was immediately able to pick out Wolf's musky scent as the strongest. He looked at Wolf, who gestured inside with both arms. Figuring that he didn't really have a cause to be worried, he stepped into the darkness. If he had seen himself do this a week ago, or if any of his teammates had been here to witness him do it, he knew the reaction would be outrage and disbelief. But all it gave him was a slight hesitation.

Once he was inside, of course, Wolf flipped on the lights, and Fox saw that he had nothing to be worried about. It was a lounge, or maybe a break room. There was a living-room furniture set clustered around an older television which was still new enough to have the holographic projector jutting out of its top. Amidst all this, there was a glass table with a few empty mugs resting on coasters. That was the room's centerpiece, and on its outer edge, there was a single lifeless computer, a refrigerator, and several bookshelves.

"Make yourself at home," Wolf mumbled. "I don't care what you do as long as you don't break anything."

Fox made his way over to the couch and lay down on it, awkwardly taking off his shoes and putting them under the table. He looked at Wolf, who hadn't moved; he was still leaning with one leg against the wall, watching Fox.

"What?" Fox said.

"Nothing." He waved a hand as if he were dismissing something. "There're drinks in the fridge and tons of Panther's trashy romance novels here if you're into that stuff."

Fox sat up. "You're not staying?"

"I have other stuff to do," Wolf said. "Paperwork and boring crap like that."

Fox couldn't believe that Wolf was about to leave him here alone. "Do it in here," he said.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Wolf just frowned. He seemed to find something interesting on the wall, because his eyes were following something over there that Fox couldn't see. Then, he cleared his throat and said, "I'll send in Krystal when she gets here, okay?"

Fox nodded. Wolf lingered there for a minute or so before he stepped out, the door whirring and clicking shut behind him.

Neither of them said anything when Wolf came back in ten minutes later, carrying a stack of papers and sitting down beside Fox, crouching over the table with a pen.


	3. An letters

Time passed. According to Wolf, it was approximately one hour until Krystal and Panther's projected time of arrival. A few minutes earlier, Fox had called Falco, who was on some space station refueling. Fox hadn't wanted to speak with anyone except the bird, and he didn't want to reveal his current situation even to him, so he dodged around the question of where he was, asking Falco to tell the others when he would get back.

Now, Fox had his head rested against the armrest of the couch, stretched out with his knees up in the air. On the other side of the couch, Wolf sat, reading something and marking on it with a pen. He had been mostly quiet since reentering the room, other than the occasional sound of him ruffling papers or scribbling something down. Fox didn't mind him, and as time went on, he found himself relaxing more and more. The musky smell that he'd wrinkled his nose at before was turning out not to be all that bad. Comparing it to Krystal's, though, was like comparing the brilliance of the sun to that of a black hole.

During the wait, Fox ran over scripts in his head of how the conversation with Krystal would go, but each seemed more like a juvenile fan novel than reality. He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound absurd, and he couldn't think of any response to his absurdity that would make him thankful for coming. He would think of something great, then forget it as soon as it had jumped into his head. He would think of how Krystal would respond, then mentally shake his head, thinking _No, she'd never say that_. And everything that seemed like something she _would_ say turned out to be something he would rather not hear.

Maybe he couldn't think of anything worth saying because the whole situation was so overwhelmingly absurd to start with. Relaxing here had become second nature after being here for so long, but when he focused on the feel of the couch, smelled the foreign scents, and looked up to see Wolf O'Donnell—Wolf!—lounging beside him, he began to tense and feel out of place. If he felt out of place, how far out of position would _she_ think he was?

He looked up at Wolf, not taking his eyes off the other until he stopped reading and began staring back, twirling the pen in his hand and barking, "What?"

"I can't do this. It was a stupid idea."

Wolf did a few trunk twists, his spine popping with sickening crunches that made Fox wince. When he finished, he reclined against the armrest of the couch, facing Fox. "Where'd that come from?"

"I can't talk to her now," Fox said, sitting up and leaning over himself. If Peppy were here, he'd jibe that Fox was in toilet-bowl position.

"Why not?"

Fox stared down at the ground for a while. "Well," he said, "she'll just be getting back from a mission. What if she's tired? What if she and Panther got in a fight and now she's pissed?" _Or worse,_ he thought to himself. _What if they got together? _"She wouldn't want to deal with me tonight."

Wolf shot him a disapproving glare. "Come on, Fox. Be a man about it. She'll respect you more if you just talk to her."

"This was a stupid idea," Fox said, ignoring the other. "I just didn't have anything better to do."

"You can't be serious." Wolf laughed. "Are you scared of her or something?"

"You don't understand," Fox said. "You can't understand. You've never been... like this."

"Never been what?"

Fox couldn't control himself. "You've never been in love! You don't know what it's like."

Fox had expected a laugh, a jeer, a taunt—some kind of aggression or mockery. Instead, Wolf backed away, hints of a smile forming on his muzzle. "You sure you're same Fox McCloud I fought all those times?"

"I don't know." Fox was trembling. The world seemed distant, as if he was watching from afar. Flash of That Day came back to him, the screaming sirens of his ship, the fear on Krystal's face... "I feel older. Like I've aged sixty years instead of ten."

"Yeah, you act like it too." Wolf reclined against the armrest, one arm resting on the back of the couch. "You're letting this get to you too much."

"Easy for you to say." Fox could barely hear himself. He looked at Wolf, the spitting image of relaxation, and frowned. "How do you do it?"

"Huh?"

"I used to be so carefree. I thought I could do anything." He clenched his hands into fists, his claws digging into his skin. "Now I feel worthless."

"And?"

"You look like you haven't aged a day. How?"

Wolf shrugged. "If you think I haven't changed since we first met, you're wrong. It's a lot harder now than it was back then. And contrary to what you think, I _have_ liked someone before before. The thing is," he said, shifting on the couch, "I don't let it get to me."

Taken out of context, Fox could hardly believe that he was having this conversation with Wolf O'Donnell. The only thing he could think of to say was, "You're lying."

"Oh, I am? Thanks for telling me that. I'm sure you know me better than I know myself."

"Then what's wrong with me? How have I let her do this to me?"

Wolf laughed. He was enjoying this, Fox could tell. "You're asking me a question you don't want to hear the answer to."

"Oh really?" Fox scooted a bit closer to the other, looking him in the eye. "Try me."

"The honest answer: who needs women anyway?" Wolf kept his eyes on Fox as he said this, waiting for some kind of reaction.

"Uh?"

"You heard me. They're too hard to please. All they do is whine. I can deal with them for a night or two, but after that, they just get annoying, and you have your teammates if you ever want a friend."

Fox barely managed to withhold a series of stinging remarks, settling instead for, "You just haven't met the right person yet."

Wolf's ears flicked. "Obviously not. You think I'd be telling you that if I had?"

"You're not making any sense."

Wolf held up a hand. "If you'd let me finish, I might."

"Then finish."

"Alright. You want the real answer? You're trying too hard, pup."

Fox blinked at him. "What?"

Wolf sighed, sitting up and leaning forward. "You kicked her off your team to protect her? You crazy?"

Fox bit his lip, looking around the room. In retrospect, it seemed like a silly idea, but at the time it had seemed so right. If he could do it over again, he would have still done the same thing. Living with the torment of having her death hovering that close would always seem worse than what would come from confronting her about it.

He told that to Wolf, who frowned. "It's not all about you, you know. She wanted to be on the team, so why couldn't you let her?"

Fox couldn't think of any response to that. He bit his lip.

"Krystal hasn't been here for that long, but she's good. Not as good as us, but good. And you know, there won't _be_ anybody else that's as good as us."

Fox could feel his teeth biting into the inside of his gum now. "So then what you suggest, since you're such a ladies' man?"

Wolf smirked, twirling the pen. "Ever taken her on a date?"

It struck Fox like a thunderbolt, and before he could stop himself, he said, "No."

"There you have it. It's no wonder you guys were such a failure."

It was the simplest thing in the world, he realized—so simple that it hurt. But the more Fox thought about it, the more he realized how stupid it would be. _Hi, Krystal, wanna go out with me? Oh, yeah, and we're heroes of the Lylat System, but let's just stroll into some three-star restaurant and act like we're teenagers all over again… not that you ever really were. _So when he regained the ability to speak, he simply said, "You're crazy. Do you seriously think that would even be possible?"

Wolf just shook his head. Soon the ruffling of papers started back up again—Wolf had bent over them and he was lost in them now. Fox was about to ask how long he had until she got back when the sound of knocking filled the room.

Looking up from his work, Wolf frowned and growled, but he got up and went to the door anyway, tail lashing behind him. Once the door was open, the first thing he said was, "What?"

"Lord O'Donnell," said a mellow tenor, "you have a message."

"From?"

By way of answer, Fox heard a shuffle of paper between them. Fox yawned, stretching himself fully out on the couch. Wolf stepped outside, and Fox had almost fallen asleep when he heard Wolf's heavy footsteps start back towards him, then freeze. He looked up to see Wolf standing over him, arms crossed.

"Huh?"

"There's been a delay," Wolf said. "They won't be back tonight."

Relief surged through Fox. He started to voice it, but before he could form the words, Wolf said, "Maybe you should stay here tonight."

Fox could feel the corners of his mouth tighten. "Why?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be leaving here tonight." He cleared his throat, and the tone of his voice changed—it was the strong lupine voice of a leader, of Wolf O'Donnell, not of the smirking canine that had lectured him only minutes ago. "Call Falco again, he said, "and tell him that you won't be back until tomorrow, and give me your communicator."

"You really expect me to stay here? With you?"

"I'm not expecting you to do anything." Wolf took a step toward him, and his voice dropped down to a growl. "I'm telling you to do it."

"Are you trying to say that you're kidnapping me?"

Wolf paused for a second, eyes cast pensively upward. "Yes. I am"

"So that's how it is, then." Fighting the brute would be impossible, so Fox decided to go along with his demands. Fox could feel his features sagging, ears canting towards his skull. He'd been afraid something like this would happen, but he'd never actually thought it would. Now that he thought about it, though, this wasn't exactly how he'd thought a kidnapping would go…

Frowning, he pressed the buttons on his communicator that would call Falco. At Wolf's command, he turned off the mechanism that would display a holographic projection of himself to Falco, and when the bird answered, a holographic bust of him projected upwards from the communicator.

Fox told the bird that he wouldn't be getting back until the next day, ignoring the odd look he got and skirting around any questions. The conversation didn't last very long, but right before he cut the call off, he looked into Falco's eyes—a wasted gesture, he knew—and said, his voice viciously casual and impassive, "Make sure Slippy doesn't forget to update ROB."

Falco's image cast a knowing look into the nothingness, and he said, "It's alright. He'll take care of it."

With that, he cut off the call and detached his communicator from his arm, locking it and handing it to the older canine.

As he was led to his room and shut in it long before his usual bedtime, his thoughts turned to the message. Long hours passed, and the more his consciousness began to ebb, the more he began to recall the full experience of the day, from which he gathered that solely the message was to blame for his confinement.

* * *

A series of knocks roused him, reverberating throughout the room like thunder. Still groggy, he dragged himself out of the bed and made his way to the door.

As soon as he got there, he realized that he didn't have a way to open it from the inside. A prison cell, he thought, and then the door opened before him, and he saw Wolf standing in front of him, carrying a tray.

"Breakfast," he said.

Fox stared at the tray, unmoving.

"Well? You gonna take it?" He shoved the tray in Fox's direction, and the younger canine accepted it, but gripped it as if it were a foreign object.

"Are they back yet?"

"No." The answer was snappy, almost as if premeditated. "Look, just go back into your room and I'll call you when they get back. You're making this much more difficult than it has to be."

Fox's curiosity piqued, but he grimaced nonetheless. "Fine." He turned his back on Wolf and stepped back inside, and wasn't surprised when he heard the door close behind him.

When the smell of fairly-fresh bread hit his nostrils, he realized that he was holding a tray of food. Until then, he hadn't realized how hungry he had been, but he only ate about half of the meal before shoving the rest into the garbage. There had been a strange, unfamiliar scent lingering over the food, and he didn't trust himself to eat it all.

He wasn't sure why he did it later, but he brought up the tray to his nose and inhaled deeply. The strongest was the scent of the food, then the musky stench of Wolf... underneath it, the stink of apes. Now he could smell it: underneath all that, there lingered a dank, unpleasant scent—tinged with an edge of familiarity—that he couldn't quite place at first. But as he searched his memory, he realized that it was the scent of a feline, and he could smell no fox.

Walking over to his bed, Fox set the tray down on it slowly, his pulse quickening. After sitting on his bed for a few minutes, he couldn't stand dawdling anymore, so he tried as many combinations as he could on the door before the keypad froze, displaying a bright **Locked for one minute**.

He paced the room for what felt like hours before lying back down on the bed, closing his eyes and trying to will himself to sleep, unable to stop haunting images from intruding on his sleep. His mind kept trying to tell him that there was a connection somewhere that he was missing, some great cause for all of this, but his hindbrain wouldn't listen, and he couldn't shake a growing feeling—resulting maybe from the drastic shift in Wolf's mood, the way he was withholding information, the coincidence of this all happened at the same time—that not everything was quite as it seemed, and that only time and patience and abstinence of thought would bring him answers.


End file.
